Scar Tissue
by Tearra
Summary: This is going to have a rating fluctuating between T and M. Doing this as a 100 Theme Challenge, using Reno as my subject. There isn't going to be any chronological order to these stories, they jump all around. Enjoy!
1. Introduction

Introduction

He grew up in the slums. By thirteen he was alone, a skinny waif who was too pretty for his own good. He had scars, everyone down there had scars, but he pushed them away, learned to fight, learned to steal, to survive. Survival of the fittest and all that crap.

He hated living there, only because he knew that elsewhere people were living nice and fancy, up on their high horse, spitting on people like him. Spitting on poor kids who lived in the slums.

Of course he'd heard of the Turks. On the streets, you hear all kinds of stuff, and what he knew was that the Turks were the ones to avoid. There were whispers about their assassinations, about how they would kill at the drop of a hat, that they were merciless and cruel. If you knew they were coming, you got the hell outta Dodge.

So, when he heard a gunshot one night at age fifteen, two blocks down, he hesitated. Natural curiosity made him want to find out what was going on, but he'd heard the stories of the Turks. However, for all he knew if could just be some asshole shooting some other asshole. There could be no danger at all.

However, he had not lived for so long by giving in to his curiosity. Turning in the opposite direction of the gunshot, he walked quickly, bare feet scraping roughly against the cold pavement.

A whisper of clothing warned him of his attacker's presence and before the attacker had a chance to move, the red headed boy had leaned down to the ground, hurled a rock at the figure and dashed across the street.

His attacker was too fast though. Within seconds, a large hand clamped down onto the boys shoulder and he felt metal digging into his side. _Dammit_, he internally cursed.

Oddly though, he wasn't scared. He didn't cry and he wasn't terrified. He felt…cold. Unatatched. Like it wasn't really him in the situation. Unemotionally, he took note of the gun jammed into his side and of the gloved hands that were wrapped around his neck.

"Can I at least see the man who's going to send me to the Lifestream?" he asked flippiantly.

There was a moment of silence and then he was turned slowly until a face came into view. The man had long black hair and was obviously Wutainese. He had dark pools for eyes that the boy felt could swallow him up and he would never be able to get out again. The man was wearing a dark blue suit that was still neat and a red tie.

The boy laughed, a harsh cacophonous sound that seemed strange coming from such a young boy. "Well fuck, I really am screwed. You're a Turk."

The dark man raised an eyebrow questioningly. The boy laughed. "It's obvious. You're well trained, you have a very nice gun, expensive by the looks of it and you're wearing a blue suit. Neatly. In the slums. Those suits make a lotta people scared around here and the only reason that you'd wear one is if you were a Turk."

"That's quite observant," the man said. His voice was soft, and articulated. "Aren't you scared? I'm going to kill you."

The boy thought for a moment. "I don't think so. I mean, shit, I'm a kid and I'm gonna die. That sucks. But what have I got here? A box and a cat that just comes around so that I'll feed it some scraps? Fuck that. I've got nothing here, I figure the Lifestream might be a little better than here anyway."

The Turk looked down at the boy for a moment. He seemed to be thinking, and the boy stared back almost defiantly. "How would you like to get out of here?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, old man?"

The Turk stiffened at the boy's insolent words. "What is your name?"

The boy sized him up for a moment, felt the cold metal of the gun against his ribs and decided that it would be in his best interest to answer honestly. "Reno."

"Reno," the Turk tried the name out. "Hmm. How would you like to get out of the slums, Reno?"

"What's the catch?" the fiery headed boy snapped.

"That you work for Shinra."

His sea green eyes widened. "You're giving me a job?"

"In a sense. You won't have the job until you're twenty, because the youngest age at which one can become a Turk, but you will be taken care of until then."

"You want me to be a Turk?" Reno asked softly, quiet for the first time in his life.

"If you can make it," the dark haired man challeneged.

Reno glowered at the older man. "I'll be a better Turk than you'll ever be, old man. Bring it on."

He didn't have any second thought. He knew what the Turks did. He knew that they killed, stole and were generally cruel people. But he also knew that if he didn't take this, now, then he would never get out of the slums.

The Turk smiled, pulled the gun from Reno's ribs and replaced it in his holster. "Alright. Let's go then."

"Wait!" The older man stopped and turned to look at the young boy. "What's your name, old man?" Reno asked.

The tall man smirked. "I'm Tseng, leader of the Turks. Now lets go."

And so they left.


	2. Love

**Author's note: There was a comment about the first chapter being too short. I'll try to flush them out some, but these are supposed to be just short little shots of Reno's life using the 100 Themes challenge. But thank you very much for the reviews, and here it goes! Also, I had a really hard time with this one for some reason. I totally didn't take this theme as a romantic love, just platonic. Also, just as a note, these short little whatever-they-ares will not be going in any sort of chronological order. Just, all around, jumping around his life. Thanks!  
**

II. Love

Love wasn't something that he ever really thought about. Lust, certainly. Lust was ingrained in his bones, a harsh and splitting reality that never really ceased to exist.. He took and he took, and he kept it all to himself. They called him cold, selfish, a whore, but he didn't care. Didn't care what anyone said. The only person who mattered was himself.

Even though he didn't look for love, that isn't to say that there weren't things that he didn't love. He loved walking out on the small balcony of his apartment as the sun came up and taking a long drag off of his first cigarette of the day. He loved the way that whiskey burned his throat and the fact that as much as bartenders would try to make him gag with their strongest drinks, they never did. He loved women, as a general populace and the way that their legs went on forever, and the smooth curve of their neck and their beautiful laughter and he loved destroying them. He loved hurting people because that meant that maybe he wasn't the only one in the world who hurt. And because he was really, really good at it.

He loved things, but he didn't love people. He had a very close camaraderie with his partner, Rude, a camaraderie that made their boss, the cold Tseng nervous. The two men were on the same level, they had an uncanny knack for being able to predict each other's actions, which was one reason that they worked so well together. But, it also made him nervous. In their line of work, they weren't supposed to make friends. In their line of work, they weren't supposed to be around for very long.

He didn't love people because they weren't reliable. Who knew how long Rude or Elena or the great Tseng were going to be around. Especially in this world, with what they did, he couldn't afford to get attached to anyone. Being attached meant that he cared, meant that he had a weak point, meant that someone, somewhere could get to him.

At least, that's how he left when he first joined the Turks. He was nineteen when he finally passed Tseng's grueling exam which left him burned, cut, and exhausted. He was a kid then, he was just a kid.

Fifteen years later, he was still really just a kid at heart.

He wasn't supposed to make it past twenty one. He never thought that he was going to make it very old. He had accepted at a young age that he was going to die, probably sooner than later.

But, twenty-one came….and went.

He didn't mean to, but one day, in Gongaga, of all places, as they fought the ever elusive AVALANCHE, he realized that he actually cared about what happened to his partner. About what happened to Rude. He winced every time that woman Lockhart's fists smashed into him. He found himself amazed that he even cared, when he has spent so long ignoring any emotion.

But, he realized later as they tended to their wounds, Rude was different than anyone else he'd ever met. Different even than Tseng. Both men were cold and professional, and always nagging at Reno about his disgusting habits, but there was just something about Rude. Something about the way the older man looked protectively over him, when he thought the red head wasn't paying attention. They way that Rude would always go out with Reno to the bars and drag his sorry ass home, every time.

He'd never realized that Rude had always been there, since they'd been partnered up. He'd always just thought of it as just that, a partnership. Rude took care of him because he took care of Rude. It had just always been like that.

But that wasn't just it. There was something more there, something that Reno hadn't ever realized because he'd never had it when he was a kid, or when he lived in the slums, or when Tseng was training him. He looked up to Tseng, but there was no way that he ever considered the man a friend. Not like Rude.

He felt strange, thinking all of these, while they sat there in the middle of the woods. He'd never really thought about any of it before. Rude was a constant figure in his life, one that he realized, with some remorse, that he would miss when he was gone.

You didn't make it long in this business.

But at that moment, he silently vowed that he would take care of Rude, watch his back, try as hard as he could to keep him around as long as possible. Because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he had grown fond of the quiet man. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he didn't know what he'd do without his presence.

"_Don't make friends,"_ Tseng had said. Fuck him. He could do whatever he wanted.

Reno looked up at his partner as the green light from his Cure material faded away. "Hey man, I'll guy you a drink when we get back to Midgar, kay?"

Rude nodded, looking a little startled. Reno was surprised to find that he could decipher his partner's minimal facial expressions fairly well. "Sure."

Reno stood and stretched, cracking his back. "Dammit. Those punks are hard on us, eh partner?"

The bald man nodded and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. "That Lockhart…"

The red head raised his eyebrows. He remembered Lockhart; tall, great rack, nice face, beautiful hair, a pleasant lack of clothing. "Yeah, she'll knock you dead."

"She's pretty," Rude said gruffly, dusting off the sleeve of his suit. Reno realized that they'd never talked like this before. They'd never gotten into each other's personal life. But with Reno's discovery of his fondness for the bald man, he realized that maybe that was the next natural step. He didn't know, he'd never really had friends before.

"Mm." Reno twirled his night stick once and then put it back in it's holster at his hip. "Well, if you get her, then I get the ninja."

Rude looked slightly surprised again. "Really?"

The red head shrugged, cast his green eyes up to the sky. "Sure, why not? I mean, goddamn, did you see her legs. They went on for fucking ever. She looked a little young. But cute. Definitely cute."

Rude smirked at the comment about the girl's legs. That was more like it.

The rumpled man shook himself and stretched again. "Where to now? Back to Midgar?"

Rude nodded. "We have to tell Tseng what happened."

"Yeeeah. I hate telling him that we got our asses kicked."

A snort of laughter escaped from the quiet man's lips. "It happens."

Reno laughed as well. "I suppose it does. And I'll buy you that drink when we get back to Midgar?"

"You don't have to." He wasn't denying the drink, he was being polite. Rude was always being so polite.

"Yeeeah." Reno smiled. "C'mon man, lets go back."


End file.
